Meeting Mr Mortality
by Marjorie K. Place
Summary: After a freak accident, Merri plays nursemaid to Chris and it's driving him crazy. Cherri, semi-smut/Romance/Drama Short story. Chapter 3 now up!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is another short story. Yes, another attempt at me trying to stretch myself with Cherri Goodness (Semi-smut, smut). This first chapter is a prologue and little dramatic, sets the stage, with references to Second Line. There are 3 chapters. Chapter will 3 will more than likely be M, not quite sure might leave it at semi-smut like Cherri On Top.**

 **The title is take from S.O.A.'s Meeting Mr. Mayhem.**

 **Meeting Mr. Mortality**

Chris LaSalle never thought he would meet Mr. Mortality with a sucker punch to the throat by a weasely looking business man with wire rimmed glasses. He and Percy were questioning witnesses at the crime scene when all of a sudden the man he was talking to let loose nailing him in the windpipe before taking off across the street.

After he recovered, the agent's first instinct was to give chase but whoa…

He needed a moment. Leaning against the light pole he began to take in long purposeful breaths. The resonating pain from the blow wasn't going away. It felt like someone had forced him to swallow a golf ball or somethin'.

The sensation was really quite indescribable.

What was happening here? All of a sudden it was hard to breath. Something inside of his throat felt like it was collapsing. Which wasn't too far from the truth, something was seriously wrong as he began to feel his throat constrict.

Why'd heck couldn't he breathe? Absently, he tugged at the collar of his shirt as if that would do any good.

"LaSalle?" He heard Percy call out to him. Coughing, he motioned to her to go after the suspect. Not wasting a second, the pint sized agent was sprinting down Royal Street identifying herself as a federal agent.

Chris bent down, placing his hands on his knees, his head hanging low desperately trying to draw in a breath. This was not good. Sweat was forming on his brow, panic was setting in. Pressure was starting to gather in his head and behind his eyes.

Briefly, he looked up to see Brody coming at him and assumed that she and Pride had been alerted by the noise on the com. The two had been behind the yellow tape canvassing the body with Loretta.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded his head, still believing that whatever this was it would pass.

/Praying it would pass/

"What happened?"

He tried to tell her, but he couldn't speak clearly. His voice sounded raspy and hoarse, akin to the fact that he wasn't getting enough oxygen. He'd been in rather scary situations before but this was becoming absolutely terrifying.

A bystander said something to Brody and immediately she started to call for Loretta.

He could hear Brody, feel her touch his shoulder but nothing was making sense. Black spots were starting to appear, forming the tunnel and he felt like-

Something was choking the life of him. But what the heck was he choking on? He'd hadn't been eating when Clark Kent had suddenly decided to turn into Rocky Balboa.

He could barely draw a breath in or out. Slowly, he started to sink to the concrete, allowing Brody to guide him as the medical examiner pushed her way through the gathering crowd, concern flooding her face.

"What happened?" she asked, not giving a rip about her bad knees as she went to the sidewalk beside Chris and Merri.

"Witness said a man wearing a business suit hit him in the throat." Brody scooted around, placing Chris' head in her lap so that it wouldn't the hard ground, granting Loretta access to the rest of him. Lowering her head, she watched for the rise and fall of his chest.

"Call 9-1-1," Loretta looked at the closest bystander with a cell phone. "Tell them you have male, 34 years of age with a compromised airway due to blunt force trauma. Then hand me your phone to me."

She'd seen people come across her table with laryngeal fractures, who ultimately died from the swelling of their larynx, automobile accidents mainly. On occasion, she had seen an athlete or two who inadvertently been clotheslined by an oncoming opponent. But never someone who had taken a direct blow from another human being's fist. She hoped that Chris LaSalle wouldn't be her first.

Judging by the wheezing sounds and the blue tint around his lips, she needed to work fast. "Merri, he's not getting enough oxygen I need to intubate." It was a risky move, given their location but one Loretta felt that they needed to try.

If she didn't in a few moments, CPR was probably going to be a given. "Call Dwayne, have him bring me my bag as fast as he can." She said as the person with the phone motioned to her. "Merri, keep him calm."

Calm? How in the hell was he supposed to stay calm when he couldn't breathe? Intubate? Was that where they had to shove tube a down your throat?

But he was still awake.

Merri must have felt the terror permeating from his body. Leaning over, her big doe eyes, met his terrified blues ones, and out of habit she stroked the side of his face, noting his skin had gone ashen. He could tell by the look on her fact that she was just as terrified as he was.

Chris tried to listen as Brody spoke frantically into her phone, but whatever monster had crawled up inside him was now clawing at his chest, pulling his heart down into his abdomen. Dang, it hurt. It felt like something was trying to it rip clean out him.

Either that or some sadistic villain had taken up residence in his throat and was crushing it from the inside out.

And then something wet, hit his cheek. What was this? Merri Brody was crying? He looked up at her to see tears brimming on her long, eyelashes.

She took his hand into hers and drew it to her lips, kissing it. He should have felt this but his body was too busy trying to find another way to breath.

"Hang on," her voice cracked, "the ambulance will be here in just a few minutes."

A few minutes? To LaSalle it already seemed like it had been an hour. He wanted to say something to her, something to make her feel better, but when he tried to open his mouth, all that came out was gasping wheeze: a not so subtle reminder that his body wasn't taking in the necessary oxygen to keep everything that was Chris LaSalle going.

"Don't try to speak," Merri told him as a firm hand came down on his thigh.

"She's right, Christopher"

King? Chris wasn't sure how but he managed to flick his gaze past Brody to almost stare straight up at the older man. Now he wished he hadn't of been so clavier with his friend on the issue of coming face to face with Mr. Morality, because, brother he was sure feelin' it now.

In some freak accident, it had come right up from the depths of hell and bit him in the ass. Some sort of penance for denyin' it that day he'd been kicked in the chest after the assailants gun had misfired.

Was he now supposed to learn that lesson from some 5'4 guy in a business suit who resembled Harry Potter?

Percy was there now too, making some flippant comment about him being an attention seeking Neanderthal, but he really couldn't hear her, a loud ringing had taken up the space the in-between his ears.

Had a bomb gone off and somebody forgot to tell him? Suddenly, he couldn't hear a thing. What'd heck was that all about?

And those black spots that were dancing before his eyes, they were suddenly getting bigger, blocking out his vision. Along with the crushing feeling, his traitorous heart was no longer slamming against the wall of his chest.

It was still.

A vacant scream left his lips, or at least he thought it had. Desperately, his hand groped around, searching for Merri's. Wasn't she just holding his?

Where was she? His sweet, gorgeous lover that he kept close to her him, night after night, wrapped up safely in his arms, feeding off of her warmth. If he could just find her…

/Shit!/

MERRI!

KING!

It wasn't like they show'd in the movies where you met were with bright light and someone beautiful from your past was waiting to guide you toward the pearly gates. There was just…

NUTHIN'

Nothing, but gut curling fear. When Sonja had accused him of not being afraid anything he'd replied back with a rather jest quip: you kickin' my butt. At that moment, nothing could have been further from the truth.

Death was what really scared him. Dying alone and never to be found specifically. He didn't care what Percy said about running from death meaning you were also running from life. He understood what she had meant by that, but in his mind he lived his life to the fullest and avoided death by playing things smart.

He had never avoided living a day in his life.

When Chris LaSalle died, he was going to be a very old man who went peacefully in sleep knowing that he had lived a rich life with family, walking the road where he had done all that he could to support the causes of the greater good.

His time wasn't now was it? How could it be? He couldn't die over a half ass punch to the throat. That wouldn't make any sense. He'd spent years on the streets on the NOLA solving murders, taking down drug dealers, and other heinous criminals. There were plenty of other ways to die, befitting of his role of a Law Enforcement Agent.

He felt like the War Hero who had survived numerous battles on the field only to be killed at home in a car accident.

There was a sudden jolting and painful feeling in his chest. His entire body felt like it was on fire! It was a hell of a rush. He must have involuntarily jumped at least three feet. His eyes opened for just a brief second and he caught a flash and glimmer of a face.

He could breathe but not on his own.

A scary thought, but he was alive. Thank God he had Merri. She was his rock. Uncertain of how much time had passed, his lids opened to the sensation of her head on his chest. Tentatively, his hand fell into her hair.

Sniffling, she raised her head, bringing her tear filled eyes to his. "You're going to be ok, I'm going to see to that." She promised.

 **A/N: Anyone ready to see how Merri takes care of Chris? Hee-Hee. If so, please let me know.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ok, Fanfiction People this is my attempt at humor. Chris survived his freak accident, but can he survive Nurse Merri? Quick update for your wonderful response.**

 **4 Days Later…**

The jingling sound of a small metal bell clanging against a copper shield made Merri grit her teeth. Chris was summoning her again. Giving him a cow bell to use in the house rather than blowing up her phone with texts had been a bad idea. Earlier in the week, she'd purposely taken away his phone for the fact that he'd been draining her battery with idle chit-chat and endless questions about the incident that had temporarily left him unable to speak.

A fractured larynx courtesy of a suspect they'd been questioning. A simple man wearing a business suit and wire rimmed glasses who decided to go for the cheap shot by punching the agent in the throat and then trying to make a run for it.

Needless to say, LaSalle had still ended up with the short stick. Thankfully there hadn't been any lasting damage done to the cartridge, other than the swelling that had compromised his airway. She would never forget the terror she felt seeing him struggle to take a breath and then suddenly slump to the ground, gasping, like a choking victim, only he hadn't been choking. He was being strangled from the inside out.

Broken bones, gunshot wounds, she could deal with but watching your partner, the man that you loved, unable to breathe. She'd never felt so inadequate and useless in her entire life. Never so completely terrified when she heard the doctors say that they had to intubate him. It had only been for a very short while, just long enough to for an injection to work at reducing the swelling of his windpipe. The idea of Chris being kept alive on machine still made her eyes water.

But this…

Chris LaSalle might be the one who was injured and in pain, but it was Merri who was being tortured. She had no idea what she was getting herself into when she had asked Pride for time off so she could take care of her beloved Bama Boy, who was slowly driving her insane. But if she were honest with herself part of it was her own fault for insisting that he stay in bed or on the couch rather than being up and about doing things. She feared that if he was participating in normal everyday activities that he'd be more apt to reinjure himself by engaging in unnecessary conversation, further straining the damaged tissue.

"I'm standing two feet away from you." She growled.

Standing so close but yet not paying attention to his non-verbal efforts at an attempt for food and the occasional dose of affection, he thought. Chris leaned over from the couch, where she currently had him sequestered to grab a small whiteboard and an Expo marker she'd left for him on the coffee table.

He wrote one word: Pizza?

Merri's eyes narrowed somewhat. For some reason it seemed that she was always mad at him for something or other. But how could she be mad at him when he'd done nothing wrong, save for letting an idiot get the upper hand?

"You know the doctor said nothing but clear liquids for the rest of the week. How about some Gatorade instead?" She forced a smile. She knew he was sick of Gatorade and anything that remotely resembled it, but there was nothing she could do. There were only so many clear liquids to choose from considering the carbonation in Sprite and Ginger Ale irritated his throat. She tried to flatten it somewhat, but that had quickly turned into an epic fail with Chris claiming that she had watered it down too much.

His eyebrows knitted; now it was his turn to glare. Using his hand, he erased the word pizza and replaced it with a phrase.

 _F- Gatorade!_

He'd already had more than his fill of Gatorade; after spending 2 days in the hospital with nothing but IV fluids running through his veins and another 3 at home living off of canned chicken broth and popsicles.

He needed something more substantial and was certain he was going to die if he didn't get it. His mind was starting to conjure things that he rarely ate like his Aunt Ida's homemade blueberry muffins with crumb topping and his mother's famous Oatmeal Scotchies bars with raisins. Ok, for the record, he hated anything that remotely had to do with oatmeal and raisins in the same sentence, but he was so dang desperate at the moment, that even the dreaded oatmeal cookie bar sounded downright delicious.

Naturally he was craving all of the things he wasn't supposed to eat. Pork Rinds and Funyuns! Crispy, crunchy goodness is what he really wanted. Sad to say however, Merri had banished those from the pantry along with anything else that was on the naughty list.

There was nothing in the house, save for a canned chicken broth (not even chicken noddle!) and cases of that damned Gatorade! Evil, torturous, Merri actually had the audacity to allow Percy to bring in take-out the other day for just the two of them!

As for playing the role of the strong silent type, he was sick of that too, though he could tell that Merri was rather enjoying it to some extent. She liked taking care of him in an interrogator sort of way. She was the major domo of his cozy little hospital ward, a real mother hen. Was it his fault that when she suggested movie night that she had chosen a comedy that had him busting up in stitches? Evidently, laughing had now become a form of verbal communication that closely resembled talking.

Talking wasn't allowed for another two freakin' days! He had to admit though it was kind of nice when she tried to silence his laughter with a kiss. The cuddl'n had been nice too until he tried to take it a step further, trying to give her balm and gotten nothing in return save for the words; you know we have to wait.

What his healing throat had to do with being able to make love with woman he loved was beyond him. He failed to see what a little a skin to skin contact followed by some tenderness and spoon'n would hurt. It wasn't like they were into erotic asphyxiation or anything.

But he also knew she was growing tired of playing nursemaid; a concept which he hoped he could use to his advantage. If he could just get her to leave him alone for a little while and go back to work where she could release some of the tension that had built up and use her bad cop skills on somebody else well, life would be good again.

He loved Merri. He surely did but being cooped up and constantly reminded of what he couldn't do, all but crushed the good natured side of him, making him cranky and downright irritable. He needed to get away from her for a bit.

Brody closed her eyes as the square whiteboard with the beveled corners went sailing over the coffee table and onto the floor followed by the marker. She had no idea what to do when got his way. They'd never been at odds on the romantic level. Thus far, their relationship had been nothing but sunshine and roses, along with some really great sex.

Oh, the sex!

They were so unbelievably good at that, a natural fit. She couldn't wait until he could resume normal activity. Just two more days, she could do this (if she didn't wind up killing him first). She watched as he hauled his butt up off of the couch and went into the bathroom, slamming the door. A few moments later, she heard the shower running.

Good, she thought. Maybe that will relax him a bit, put him a better mood. But when he emerged some 15 minutes later, fully dressed (instead of in his sleep pants and a ratty Alabama football t-shirt) and freshly shaven she had her doubts. She frowned as he made his way to the spot where he kept the keys to the truck and shoved them into his pocket.

"Where are you going?" Merri marched right up to him. He wasn't supposed to leave. The doctor at the hospital had said bed rest in a room with a good humidifier. Being out in the open could compromise his still healing respiratory system.

Chris opened his mouth only to have her shove the whiteboard into his chest. He had to give it to Merri, if nothing else she was prepared. There was a whiteboard and a marker in the living room, the kitchen and the bedroom. The dang thing was never out of arm's length.

He rolled his eyes, taking it from her hands and quickly scrawling one word to let her know he was tired of being akin to the Boy in the Plastic Bubble. He had never liked John Travolta and he sure as heck wasn't going to start acting out one of his roles now.

OUT!

"You can't!" she shrieked, watching his eyes grow wide.

/Oh, Really? Watch me/

Setting the whiteboard on the counter, he walked out the back door, hoping Brody wouldn't follow.

Normally, it was Percy and Sebastian he couldn't wait to get away from but given the way, Merri had been the last couple of days, he'd gladly spend all night on a stake out with the two of them, than to have to be a victim of her doting.

Maybe if he went to see Pride at the bar he could convince him that beer was a clear liquid and get himself something to eat in the process. But then again, like most public places in NOLA, the bar would be filled with smoke.

That wouldn't be good. But it was still early enough in the day that the heavy chain smokers probably wouldn't be out in force. Why not give it a try? It was Saturday, so Pride was sure to be there and if he wasn't there was always Ross P who worked the dayshift, stocking and cleaning whatnot.

He was half way through the courtyard when he heard the dreaded words; _No you really can't leave. The truck's not here. I let Pride borrow it._

As he said earlier, Merri was prepared and to a degree he should have anticipated this but never did he think she would go this far off of the rails. Working with her for two years now, he'd learned how obsessive she could be when she set her mind to something. The woman was worse than Pride.

She needed professional help!

Dipping his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew better than to actually go out to the street to see if she was bluffing. She wasn't. Now he was stuck with no phone, no truck and no food.

He might as well be stranded alone on a deserted Island.

Childishly, he turned his head when she tried to pull his hand away from his face, hoping to ignore her as she palmed his cheek. He wouldn't allow her to look up at him with her big soulful and sexy as hell brown eyes. That trick had lost its power over him days ago.

It was just her way of luring him in tryin' tuh get him to play nice.

"I know you're angry," she said, leaning in to kiss the darkened purple/green bruise that marked the spot where the wiry man who resembled Harry Potter had laid his fist.

Chris flinched a little as the slight pressure of her lips triggered a bit of irritation to the injured tissue.

"But it's just two more days." She added sweeping another gentle nuzzling across his neck.

His eyes rolled heavenward before he took a hold of her hand and separated himself from her touch, depositing the loving hand at her side.

He was done.

"I can't take two more days of this," He would go absolutely insane if he has to spend one more night confined to the couch or the bedroom like a sick child, while she gabbed on her phone and munched on the case of his snack size Zapp's potato chips. She didn't think he was aware that she'd been sneakin' them when she thought he wasn't paying attention, but he knew.

He could smell them and hear the bag crinkling from a mile away!

Brody looked at him in shock. His voice sounded a bit horse and somewhat strained, like someone who was speaking with a sore throat. She supposed his throat would be sore considering EMS had cruelly shoved a tube down it at the scene in order to keep the oxygen flowing to his brain.

Well, they weren't so much as cruel as they were trying to save his life.

"You're not-" she uttered in a rather small voice of her own. She hadn't meant to try and tell him what to do or in this case what not to do but she just couldn't help it. It was easy to see that he was at his wits end, she was too, but what he couldn't see is how absolutely petrified she was to the idea of possibly losing him again and watching over him like an overbearing spouse was the way it had chosen to manifest itself.

"Supposed to be talk'n? I know ya remind me every chance ya git!" His blue eyes were nearly bug eyed wide with his own frustration. Though it didn't sound like it he was yelling at least that's what it felt like considering the amount of energy had to use to get all of that to come out.

It had left him absolutely out of breath and he was certain that is showed on his face to some degree. Though he couldn't see it he was getting red in the face.

 _Cough_

 _Cough_

"Chris?" Merri's eyes were wide with fear as she reached for him only to have him swat her away.

"'im fine," he tried to growl in between ragged breaths. "I just need tuh get away for a bit." He purposely refrained from using term need to get away from you, suspect of the damage it would do to her. She'd been through enough.

But for the love of God he needed a break.

 **A/N: Chp 3 is smut and semi-smut which I hope to post before the weekend. So, if you see this story disappear. Be sure to look for it on my page. It just means I decided to change the rating.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I now have a tumblr Marjoriek for those who are interested in following.**

 **This chapter is rated "M" for Mature Smut and is not suitable for young readers. Hope it was worth the short wait.**

 **Part 3**

When she met him at the emergency room some three hours later, after some hospital worker had called to say that he'd been brought in for pulmonary distress (due to spending too much time in a smoke filled bar), Merri Brody didn't judge, she simply flung her arms around his neck.

"S-s-sorry" she whispered, not the least bit concerned that her tears were running falling onto his shirt collar.

"My fault for bein' stupid." He grimaced placing his hand at the small of her back and kissing the top of her head. He couldn't say that he'd purposely endangered himself by going into a bar and having a few drinks. He just didn't think the alcohol was going to burn his throat so badly. But combined with the smoke irritation he'd been unable to breathe.

It was nothing a little oxygen and a breathing treatment couldn't fix. In fact, they were sending him home as soon as the nurse came back with a prescription for an inhaler.

Merri picked up her head, studying his face. "You're not stupid; I shouldn't have pushed you so hard."

He looked at her with a bit of a lopsided grin. "What do you say we call a truce?" She could be a little less mother henish and he well; he could do a better job at being patient and following doctor's orders.

Merri nodded her head furiously as his hand anchored around the back of her neck drawing her in for a series of chaste kisses. Whatever contempt they had built up toward one another was quickly dissipating, forgotten in the emotional upheaval.

"Let's go home."

* * *

From the sanctuary of the French Doors, Merri watched as he raked his favorite grey Henley over his head in preparation to put on the PJ's she'd laid out for him. They weren't really PJ's not like the kind her father wore anyway. They were carbon copies of the ones he'd been wearing for the past three days.

"I think I'm gonna shower first, get the smoke smell off me." He said unhooking the button at his waistband of his brown cargo pants.

Brody bit the inside of her cheek in effort to telling him to stop talking as she watched him undress in the dim light of their bedroom. Truly he was the most beautiful man; she had ever laid eyes upon. A bit thin, for the taste of some women, but his lean form was extremely ripped. If she had to guess, the man didn't have but maybe an ounce of body fat to spare, even less now that she'd been lovingly starving him. He was solid muscle and best of all he was all hers.

"I'm going to go make you something to eat," she said, trying to stave off the twinge that had just formed between her thighs. If she didn't walk away now, she was going turn into the biggest hypocrite by devouring the massive manhood that was hidden beneath his boxer briefs and making him engage in things that he shouldn't be engaging in.

Tonight had been awful and she had been awful. All she wanted to do was throw herself at him and love on him with the most tender make up sex she could conjure. But rules were rules and since she had appointed herself major domo of this little heart wrenching scenario she needed to follow them.

But then again, what could a blow job and a nice rubbing hurt? She would make certain that he didn't return the favor of oral pleasuring out of fear that her juices running down his throat would somehow cause further irritation but they could do other things.

No…No…disappear into the kitchen and fill the man's stomach. She started into the kitchen and suddenly stopped.

On second thought…

Chris had all but lost himself underneath the warm spray and the steam when the shower curtain suddenly flung open, his glacier blue eyes going wide.

There in all of her luscious naked beauty stood Merri.

"What are ya-"

"Uh-huh…no talking," she commanded, stepping over the lip of the tub and pulling the curtain back to the wall. Hands strategically placed on his chest, she kissed him greedily thrusting her tongue into the back of his throat making him stiffen.

What'd heck was going on? Not that he really had to ask, it was just she had been so serious about them not engaging in intimate relations until his time of bedrest and silence were up, that he was taken back a bit.

Quite a bit.

His hands wrapped around her arms, pushing her off of him. "Are you Dr. Jekyll or Mrs. Hyde?"

"I'm the woman who loves you and is trying to apologize." She quipped, attempting to nip at his collar bone, only to have him hold her back.

Chris released her arms, letting his hands slid up her cheeks, delving into her hair. "I already tol' ya. There's nothing to apologize for."

Eyes opened, their noses bumped in and nudged, in anticipation until Chris' tongued glided gently over hers, tasting a hint of Cajun Spice and salt. Curious, he pulled away, still clutching her face.

"You been eatin' my potato chips again?"

"Guilty as charged," Merri grinned as he yanked her to him, making her yelp. Her arms wrapped around his neck, as they molded hotly to another, emitting the harsh sounds of breathing as they sucked in puffs of air and the occasional droplet of water through distended nostrils.

Merri heard Chris make a throaty noise and for a moment she was afraid he was unable to breathe until she felt his hand slide down her arm to her rib cage, his thumb brushing under the swell of her breast.

Unconsciously, she let out a moan as his fingers found their way to her delicate nipple and began to work their magic. Then without making another move his flesh was suddenly bulging at the apex of her thighs, putting just enough pressure on-

"Chris!" her breathing hitched as she broke the kiss, calling out his name. She was nearly there and she hadn't even touched him! She knew it had been over a week, closer two since they had-

But she never figured that she would become so wound up. If they continued going at this rate, she would be creaming her thighs and judging by the large muscle poking into her leg so would he.

"Let's slow this down," she whispered, brushing away the naughty hand. For now she just wanted to kiss him, build up the moment and see exactly what he was capable of. Making love to someone in the shower took quite a bit of energy and she wanted to be certain he was up for the task.

Slow down?

His hands fell to the curve of her hips, his dark blue irises, questioning her brown ones as he gave her a soft kiss before his mouth slid down her jaw onto her neck. He whispered into her ear, "If we go any slower, the water's gonna get cold."

He had a point. Cold water could really kill the moment.

Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she slammed against him, claiming his mouth.

Damn the taste the potato chips, he thought as he reached down and cupped her bottom, lifting her so that she was forced to wrap her legs around his waist.

He wavered for a moment, as his stomach gave a rueful growl, reminding him he hadn't eat anything solid in almost a week. He was not at all certain he could do this he thought as he braced up her against the shower wall, taking on all of her weight while she swallowed him whole.

Merri closed her eyes squeezing them shut, tilting her head back. If there had been any doubt about the man's ability to perform it was gone now. She was completely mystified over the fact that he could hold her up and still manage to touch her there-!

Chris felt a little guilty. There was nothing sensual or tender about this moment. In fact it was rather primal, the force in which he was thrusting into Merri should have made her want to stop but it didn't.

He wondered if she knew that the moment they were having was purely about the anger he felt over almost dying at the hand of Harry Potter. He hadn't realized until just now how much pent up anger he had been holding inside.

And then suddenly…

Ahhh!

His world was spinning at the sensation of his release. He was dizzy, so dang dizzy but yet he still continued to hold tight to Merri.

Her cheek was resting on his shoulder as she pressed chaste kisses to his neck. For several moments they clung to one another until gravity and Chris' waning grip started to pull her downward.

It wasn't until she was on her feet that she noticed the presence of tears gathering and certain redness to the whites of his eyes.

She tried to school her expression but she was too late. She knew never ask a man if they'd been crying, for it fucked with their sense of masculinity.

"The water's gettin' cold." Chris said, his voice blanketed with emotion.

She watched him turn back into the spray, for a few seconds and shut it off before stepping over the lip of the tub and reaching for a towel. Standing there she fixed on the wall, until Chris shoved pushed a towel in her direction.

What had just happened? She stood there completely perplexed until she heard Chris call out to her, his voice notably clear but still not the strong rugged tone that was uniquely him.

"You'd better hurry it up with ya want there to be a round two!"

Round 2?

The man who had undeniable tears in his eyes wanted another round? Merri pressed the towel to her face muffling a scream.

 **A/N: What will Chris say to Merri if she confronts him about his emotions? So, I have an idea for a 4th chapter. It's just finding the time and the motivation to write it. Your feedback helps. Anyhow be sure to check my page or follow for updates as this now rated M.**


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